Little Falls transcript., 1887-05-20
HOW HILDA MANAGED.
BY HELEN FOREST GRAVES.

WIZ SAe'Soo Co1AI0I "a oAAC OUASIyS WALL
the handle of his whip. It seemed
almost a liberty thus unceremonious-
ly to address the gaily attired young
woman who was adding up the &C.
counts behind the tall desk. ,.
He stood near the door, keeping a
sharp lookout on the barefooted boy
who was holding his sleepy old horse
for had he not heard, many a time
and oft, of the juvenile New York?
In reply to his respectful question,
the young woman nodded her head
and curtly answered.:
"Up stairs"
"It's a pretty big house." said Mr..
Webb, glancing about him. ''The
Murrays wasn't rich when they lived
down our way; but Rachel never had
good Judgment. l should say, now,
the rent OF house like this
ut amt q house," said the young
woman, speaking with a lead pencil
between her teeth. g.
"Ain't a house, eh?" Martin Webb's
honest, onion-colored eyes gradually
expanded, until you would have
thought the lids could scarcely con-
tain them. "Not-a house?"
"No; it's a fiat. Fourth story,
back room. Name OF Murray. Stair
case just out in the hall there" y e..
Aud so for the first time in his life,
Mr.. Webb found himself in the pre-
cincts OF a "fat."
He lost his way half a dozen of times
this gaunt, good-humored giant, with
q ham in his arms, two or three
strings OF g. country sausage over his
shoulder, and basket of red apples
clasped tightly against his breast.
That was q matter Of course.
He walked into the kitchen of one
fiat, brought up IN the parlor OF anoth-
81, land presented himself, smiling, "a the
late breakfast table OF a third, where
luckless printer, who worked all
night, on the early edition OF q morn
ing paper, was sleepily chipping the
the shells o. an egg.
"Call them eggs?" said Martin, con-
temptuously. "If our VOLTS Corners
hens can't beat that ERE sort o thing
But | am sure l ask pardon; guess
I've got into the wrong flat. P'r'aps
you can tell me where q lady named
Murray lives?',
And by dint OF many such question.
ings and inquiries, Mr.. Webb at last
got himself, his red apples, ham and
sausages into a scantily furnished
room looking out on q bare brick wall
"a room where everything had q
starved look, even down to the cat,
which sat intently watching q mouse
hole in the wainscoting.
Mrs. Murray, a tall, pinched, elder
" woman, was engaged, through a
double pair of spectacles, in mending
6ne laces, but the slow motion OF her
needle, and the uncert ain expression
OF her face, denoted no very brilliant
success.
And seated on the window ledge op-
posite her, ariding habit of dark green
cloth, IL beaver hat with dark green
veil twisted around it, and a iaunty
little ivory handled whip, was a pref
ty girl OF Is or 20.
Both started at the entrance OF
Mr. Webb, both smiled glad recogni-
ton. @ ''-tE.. ''@
"Why," cried Mrs. Murray, it's
cousin Martin! Hilda, give your cous-
in q chair I declare, Martin, / am sur
prised to see you here! ../...l. ..-,% -,.~1r
"No more'n I to get here, I guess, "
returned the farmer, with a peculiar
chuckling noise down in his throat.
These 'ere city folks, they do take
] The starch outen q fellow. Amt
much Like our medder flats down at
VOLTS Corner, eh? Here, cousin
Rachel, I've brrng ye one OF Eliza's
best sugar cured hams an some
sassages, and q bushel OF the apples
chat groWsd on the tree beyond the
well the real, red-cheeked Josey
Moore's you know z4S :
III t''It's very kind Of you, I'm sure, :"
iDaid Mrs. Murray. "Hilda, can you
not ofsr our cousin some refreshments
alter his journey?' ,sse E. f.
Hlda oolored painfully. How could
she explain to her mother that the
mpboard was utterly empty, even Of
q crust of bread? ss, u Il
"TI bring up something directly = :
Ghe murmured. .slE i5sjs K 5ssfs
And then she vanished. ts5
From one good neighb the very
printers wife, indeed she borrowed q
potfnl fof freshiy-made coffee; from an
other, q few slices Of cold boiled beef;
from 9 third q pan OF new baked bis